I'm Thawing
by NikiVi
Summary: Lia is now twenty years old and has started college after getting a GED soon after she was officially out of treatment. She is coping with being better, her relationship with people, Cassie, and coping with how she is no longer Anorexic. While coping with these things someone from her past comes back, someone she thought she'd never see again. Will this help her goals or hurt?
1. Chapter 1

A/N So it's my birthday and I couldn't sleep and I don't know, maybe this will be good maybe it won't… We'll see. This is a continuation after getting out of treatment a third time. However some of these details may be slightly AU because I'm rereading it and haven't read it in four years. Bear with me please. I know most is accurate from what I'm pulling from.

It has also come to my attention FF does not allow strikethroughs. I will be using () to indicate those.

LIA POV

"I am Lia Marrigan Overbrook. I (am,) was someone who self-harmed. I am, was anorexic. I (think), am, better now." I repeat these words every morning while I look at myself in the mirror. "I'm thawing." Is one thing I can say before I leave the bathroom without any words of discouragement. Things have changed; I still live with my father though my relationship with my mother has gotten better. I got my GED and I'm attending college at my dad's college. My grades have improved. Ironically I'm looking to be a counselor for those who have eating disorders. Maybe ironically isn't the best word for this, maybe the wording should have been in a twist of fate. Either way, I've decided as someone who's experienced a disorder I can be better than the psychologists people dump money into who never solve the problems, and actually help. I've come to terms that I had and have a problem. Jennifer hides the scale from me; she lets me weigh myself every week and makes sure I do it in clothing I can't hide extra weight in. I'm up to a (disgusting) healthy weight of 118.40 pounds, good for a five foot five woman. "I'm leaving!" I call as I fix my uniform for work, letting Jennifer know I'm going out. 'I am a beautiful, healthy, twenty year old.' I think to myself, not bothering to listen to the words the woman had to say. My words trump hers.

I work at a rinky dink diner in town, cheap, inexpensive, a good place to work. My psychologist said it was more helpful than harmful to work around food, in that way I'd be able to see that food wasn't 'scary'. On the drive I think of Cassie, who hasn't vanished over the two years but who will visit me. She holds no spite anymore, there are no more nightmares, she watches me knit and notices how I'm looking healthy. I no longer think of the Cassie I made a bet with, the Cassie I worked so hard to be skinnier than (which I won in the end). I think about the Cassie when she had just moved here at nine years old, the slightly spoiled but welcoming, and independent, little girl. She should have stayed like that. (We should have never made that bet). My thoughts waver, I was told to keep a journal when I think about her or have an urge to not eat, I do it occasionally.

When I park my car I take a breath, reminding myself to keep a positive attitude. After counting calories for so many years it was hard to suppress it, but I'm getting better. I get out of the car and numbly walk to my job, something I was told I needed. I needed something besides school to focus on and in this town that meant get a job. I walk in with a smile plastered onto my face, one that doesn't raise any eyes, one that I had(perfected) hidden behind for longer than I should have. It was a slow day, some people I served I knew. A few times I had seen Cassie's parents, before they moved away. They had to move out of the house once Cassie died, they couldn't deal with the haunted memories of their beloved daughter, (neither could I). They moved further, on the edge of town, and then one day the Parrish's were no more, well, at least in this town.

I had made friends, some, with people in my major group at school and I made some friends from a support group I wanted was forced to join. I was doing better. It was nearing the end of my shift, I couldn't wait to go home and hear what the eleven year old Emma had to say. Jennifer had let up on the young girl, I think after seeing what pressure was built onto me she decided to let some things go. Emma stopped with French but she rejoined soccer and she has improved a tremendous amount. (She also doesn't have to tell her coach I have cancer anymore.) Emma kept me going when I was in hell treatment, even though they didn't let her visit too often. Jennifer or dad would give her my letters and I'd get small notes in return, sometimes small trinkets she's made for me. The days I got to see her made living bearable. It made it bearable in the days where they made me open up about things I swore I never would. It made it bearable in the days I had to relearn how to eat, when I had to force myself to eat food that weighed itself down in my stomach and expanded my size. I no longer feel that way; I am no longer at war with food.

Someone came in a few minutes before my shift was over. This was my last customer before I went home and actually started on homework, something I no longer lied about just so I could lie in bed. I still have scars where I used to cut marks into my skin and I miss it sometimes, a cool sharp blade reminding me of my mistakes. It was toxic though, I know it, so I don't do it. It's too complex to explain my want and dis-wants, even in my own head. This is one of the days I will go home and write in my journal, I don't usually ponder on the past so much. It's the anniversary of Cassie's death though. Many people had forgotten what today is, she was just another teenager that passed, another numbered death, funeral, in this town, another person whose friends no longer do anything to remember her and whose family has moved away with too much sorrow and resentment for the community, only coming to visit around this time and pay their respects at her grave. This will be the first year I go to the grave. Last year, I was still in the treatment center. I got out nine months ago and have had a lot accomplished since then, I'm in school and actually go which is a plus. I want to go this year. I'll have to call Jennifer and tell her I'll be home late with, of course, an explanation. They treat me like a child, but I don't blame them after the things I've put everyone through. I don't think too much on the guilt part, I instead go over to the customer.

She leaves, also leaving a nice tip for me. I leave for the day and call Jennifer, getting permission. It wasn't dark yet, I worked a morning shift, and so she thought it would be okay. I stop by the florist and buy a small bouquet of what is was Cassie's favorite flowers before I drive to the cemetery. There are a few people there, visiting other graves. Cassie's parents must have been here recently, there were fresh flowers on the grave. They didn't stop in and say hi. They probably made a drive, visited, and left. They don't want to be here to remember what had happened. (I don't want to remember what happened). I don't know what to do as I approach the grave. I know under the ground her body was decaying, no longer looking like Sleeping Beauty and now bugs were crawling around her. She was no longer there; the important part of Cassie had been long gone. (Maybe from me too). Her soul was gone, she could not detect I was there.

Neither of us believed in Heaven, but I want to believe that we were wrong and she's somewhere happy and healthy. I place the flowers at the grave, trembling. I have so many regrets. I'm not supposed to voice then and yet I'm not supposed to keep things bottled up. I think what they mean is talk to someone who is alive, not someone who is no longer there. I don't listen. I need to talk to her. "I miss you." Those were the first words spoken to my best friend; my mother was right when she said just because we stopped talking for a few months didn't mean we weren't best friends anymore. "I should have been there for you." I hear myself say, letting the guilt over come me as tears sting my eyes that would soon ruin the makeup I was wearing. Not important. "I should have known with that many calls, with thirty three, you needed me." I say acid in my voice that was aimed at me. If words could kill it would have been suicide. "But, I wasn't. And the actions were yours and yours alone. I don't think I actually could have stopped you." I continued in a somber tone, running my hand over the tombstone. "I would have gone with you but this… Life experience I have gained from our mess, it's not just mine or yours but ours, is going to help other teenage girls. I'm going to be better one day, and I'm going to help girls like you. Like me. Like both of us. I'm going to remember you by helping a Cassie or a Lia later through the years. I think if you could signal to me, you'd want something in remembrance of you. I think you'd like this, if you could send me a signal." I say, my voice breaking. I didn't want to help girls like her; I wanted her back so I could help her. I had to get help. She should have had to too. We could have gone through it together if only I answered.

Too many conflictions ran through my head, too many memories, and too many bad things. I should go. "I miss you Cassie. I'm sorry I didn't go with you two years ago, and in that way leaving you alone, but I'm not sorry I'm still here." There was truth in that statement. I wanted to be with her, but I was glad I was alive. "I'm going to go. I hope you like the flowers." I say through my sobs, my chest heaving, hurting in the bitter air. "I love you." I say, and not in a romantic way. In the way that you love a best friend, in a way I'm growing to love myself. In the way that you'll always be there for someone, though in my case she was far gone and not coming back, again, another complex thing I could not even explain to myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I tensed, whipping around in a state of shock and panic, ready to attack. Something stopped me; a range of emotions over taking me as I study the person I once thought was an attacker. He wasn't. "Emma." He said in an affectionate and teasing tone, something I would look back on to find most inappropriate. "Lia." I corrected in confusion, it being obvious who I was. The two of us came to know each other so well in such a short time, and then he disappeared. "This is about the time she died. I'm back in town, kind of, for now. Since I found her I feel like I have some sort of connection to her." He said, my head starting to swirl. "I have to go." I say numbly and take one last look of Cassie, her tombstone, before I walked away. I sat in my car for fifteen minutes before I felt calm enough to leave for home.

It was a rainy weekend the next time I saw Elijah, after I had an emergency appointment with my therapist. I had to discuss this. I was in such a state of panic when I knew him the feelings I had were false and a need for a connection, but it was still fucking weird to see him. He looked different, much cleaner. His dark hair was at a manageable length, nipping just an inch before the bottom of his neck. He had some stubble but not an idiotic beard. He was still tall and lanky, most don't shrink in height and he was, even crouched down to my level, a foot or so taller. He had new tattoos, maybe, or possibly I had imagined them. I was working by myself besides the cook, another slow day. I figured no one else would come in so I could sit for a moment and work on school stuff, ironically psychology reading. I thought I'd detest psychology and I would change my major in a week, I wasn't the only one, but it's something I needed and something that made, more or less, sense.

"Would you like the leftovers from the customer who left not too long ago? I could dig it out of the trash for you." Harsh. I was attacking him. He didn't have glasses this time, he must have invested in contacts. He did have knew tattoos, on his knuckles. "No thanks I'd like to buy the two of us a meal and chat, I do owe you one." He said. I gritted my teeth together, he owed more than just one meal. "Fine."I say dryly, not taking his order. I tell the chef to make waffles. They were Cassie's favorites, I was still missing her a week later. I wish he hadn't seen me that weak. Although the last time he saw me I was stronger, a lot weaker mentally, emotionally, and physically. The waffles were done soon after and I sat by him, bringing my school work along. The meal was on him, but I didn't have to chat with him.

"You're in school?" He questioned, as though it was a shock. "Yes." I answer flatly as I pour a small portion of syrup on the side of my dish so I can dip the waffles. I'll go home and exercise to work this off. I will be healthy. "For what?" He asked, as though we were old pals who were playing catch up. "Psychology. I want to be a counselor who deals with those with eating disorders." I answer, not looking at him. He left.( I wish he would have stayed gone). Upbringings from the past made me think of when I was anorexic. When I was thin, too thin. "Good for you. You'll be good at that." He said and I snort. "How do you know?" I snap. "Visions." He answers and my lips instinctively quirk up. His tattoo covered by his sleeve comes to mind, right, visions. He may have changed how he looked but he was still Elijah. I suppose I was the same. I grew out my dark brunette hair, it's to my mid back. It's nice. I like it better than my shoulder length hair. Not a lot has changed, I look healthy now. I still have hazel eyes. He has brown eyes.

"I hitchhiked for a while across the states. I did a lot of odd jobs, painter, landscaper, delivery man. If there's a job you don't need a specialization in, I was it. I had a vision though, and I felt like it meant I had unfinished business here but we'll see. I don't know what, with who, or where, but I have some loose ends to tie up in this vicinity." He talks with his hands a lot, motioning with wide arms when he says vicinity. He talks while eating. He looks thinner. Odd jobs and strange living places probably aren't good for a person. "I didn't ask." I say finally, not commenting on the little differences I remember. I can tell when a person has gained or lost weight as long as it's more than a pound, it's something I have to live with.

"I'm the assistant librarian at the city library. It's a nice job, I guess. I'm sure I'll move on to something else when I get tired with it." He continued, as though I didn't say one rude thing to him that day. "You aren't eating." His tone changed. Everyone's voice changes at that topic. (I want to go somewhere no one knows me). I look at my plate, a few bites of waffles gone. "I don't like to talk and eat at the same time." I chide, taking a large bite to prove a point. They're firm, which I like, albeit cool. I missed being able to enjoy how things tasted. "I'm assuming everything turned out well?" He asked, obviously wanting me to explain what had happened since that morning I woke up and he wasn't there. "I'm here." I reply coyly. We share a look. That wasn't what he wanted to know.

"I went back into treatment. My parents and I are on better footing now, we're working on mending our relationship. I live with my dad and my step mother again. I'm not anorexic. I eat." I say, not mentioning I tend to eat one meal a day and snack through the rest of the day. I sometimes ate two meals, I haven't worked up to eating three good meals a day. "You look better this way, healthier. You kind of scared me with how thin and tired you always looked. You look normal." I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. "It's a compliment." That answers that. Then uncomfortable silence settled between us.

"I'm sorry I took off with your money. I'm sorry I just left you." Elijah said, his fingers running through his hair. The elephant in the room has made itself front and center. "That was two years ago." It was a fact, a meaningless fact with no meaning of forgiveness or any other emotion behind it. "It doesn't make it acceptable. I feel guilty about it every day." He continued. I silently wish for something to come up that would make me have to leave. "I was told not to dwell on the past. So I'm not. I'm getting better." I tell him. I never say I'm better, I will never be completely 'better'. Not ten minutes later the cook comes out and tells me the owner says to close up, this rain is going to freeze over soon." He said. "I have to clean up and you have to leave." I say, glad to have a reason to usher him out.

He was there waiting, and smoking, when we got out twenty minutes later. He had an umbrella. He must have gotten it from his car. "Thank you." I say as I point to my car, him walking me over. "If you ever want to talk you know where to find me, I work at the library, and I'm usually there. I'm a handy librarian if you ever need help finding something." He told me as I opened my door and started the car to warm it up. "Thank you." I repeat with a strained smile. I could tell by the look on his face that he was not pleased.

"I'm Elijah." He said, thrusting his free hand out at me. "What?" I'm lost, I know who he is. "What's your name?" He asked. I blink, had I imagined this whole thing? "Lia." I repeat slowly, deciding to go along with it and shake his hand. "That's a nice name. I knew a Lia in the past. She was very different, very tired looking and very sad. You remind me somewhat of her, but truth be told I don't miss her too much. I think I'll like to have you around much more." He said in a warm tone. "What's going on?" I question, almost frustrated. "You said not to think much on the past. I'm introducing myself as the new Elijah, to the new Lia." He explained and an odd thing happened, a smile graced my lips.

This was new. I had never had a fresh start with someone, not from the beginning. I nod my head, removing my hand from his. "Well, I used to know this Elijah, very strange and flaky. He left me and stole things from me. He was very strange but he helped me in the end at least that's what I decided when I was in treatment. He helped me reconcile with my family, too bad he'll never know that. I'm looking forward to getting to know you." I say and he smiles back at me. "Likewise, and if it's not too much on you I'd like to hear about your treatment. But for now the weather's getting worse and you need to get home I'm sure. Goodbye Lia, it was a pleasure." He said, his eyes moving from my face to my hand as if wondering if he should make some sort of motion. I say my farewell and get in the car, the inside already warm. I hadn't realized how cold I was until the warm breeze coming from the air conditioner hit my cool cheeks.

I'm thawing.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N I am continuing the story because I really enjoy it. Thank you to GraceWinter for the compliment of the story!

The strikethroughs are indicated through ()

 _ **LIA POV**_

(I can't do it). School's getting worse. There are people from my past who aren't letting me forget my (accomplishments) mistakes. I get patronized for what I want to do, getting told it's the pot calling the kettle black. (Maybe they're right). I haven't seen Elijah since the reintroduction two weeks ago at the diner. I had been kept busy I hadn't thought of it too much, not until I had to head there to look for books. I don't want to tell my therapist I'm getting bullied at school, I'm in college now you'd figure that wouldn't happen anymore. You would figure wrong.

I enter the library with every intention to go in there, check out what I need, and leave. A part of me (wanted) needed to see Elijah. He would know what to do. Most of me doesn't want to see him. I looked cold, I was cold. I lost weight, not too much to raise suspicions yet but I've started to skip meals again. (I'm a terrible human being). The pressure of school mixed with being belittled by those who think they know my story was getting to my head. I wish I had Cassie back. (Why did we have to make that damn bet?) I know where I'm going; to the self-help section. I head there immediately, rummaging through different books. They seem to be filled to the brim on chicken soup for the soul books, books I couldn't care less about. I run my fingers over the spines and pull out a book dealing with anorexia, with what I have had. I feel my blood pumping in my ears as I move to a new section. I grab a book dealing with nature versus nurture, something I have a research paper over. I didn't see Elijah at the front. I hope he's not here. (I'm a terrible liar).

He's there. He was sitting behind the counter, looking absolutely bored. "Lia." He addressed with a smile, sitting up properly and ready to snatch the books from me. I nod my head and look down, fumbling for my library card in my purse. Why hadn't I thought to get the stupid thing ready? I let out a shaky breath as he took the books. No words exchanged between the two of us, he put in return dates for the books and scanned them and I pretended to look interested in the library card I had renewed a few years bac, (a few years ago when Cassie was alive). He took my card before he said the words I knew I would here. "Why do you have a book on anorexia? It doesn't seem to fit the child development books." He said and I paused, my mind frantic. Fuck repeating over in my mind as I scrambled for some sort of excuse, even a lame one. "I'm doing outside research for school, it's for a separate class." I hear myself saying lying. I study his face before he hands back the card, trying to see if he bought it. "Alright." He said. I held in the breath of relief I was just about to exhale, saving it for later.

I waved goodbye and held the books in my arms, turning on my heels. "Hey, wait. I'll walk you out. I'm about to go off shift anyways, just need to tell Ms. Rivers I'm out of here." I almost cringed at the words but decided there was nothing I could do to deter him. He vanished into an office and I stepped ever so quietly, wondering if I could slip out the door without a trace. I was almost there when I heard a voice behind me, "Are you trying to leave me?" I halt and turn around, shaking my head. "No! I'm just in a rush to get home." I lie. I will always be a liar. "Did you drive here?" He questioned and I shook my head. It wasn't too far from the house and I needed a breath of fresh air. The coolness makes me feel numb. (I like it). "Don't you drive to work?" I question, wanting to run out. I'm too weak to run. I haven't eaten more than 200 calories in a day and a half. (I like it). I feel myself get dizzy from just moving too fast, but I can't collapse. My body has trained itself to thrive on such a small amount of nutrients. I love hate it. "I know how to walk back. I want to make sure you get home safely." He put on his leather coat that was tattered and looked worn, I wonder if he got it from a thrift store. A strange flutter moved through my chest, one I didn't even pick up on at first. I wonder why it happened. (I wonder why he cares about my wellbeing). "Then you can carry my books." I joke, but in actuality the books were starting to feel like lead in my arms. "I really don't mind." He said and took them from me, his eyes moving carefully over my face. I wonder if he suspected something. I probably looked more drained. I tried not to think about it as I adjusted my own coat, trying to cover up more but I was still chilly.

We walked in silence, specks of snow covering the brown grass that had long since been a luscious green color. "Are you cold?" He asked. "Of course I am. You don't see me shaking?" I ask, trying not to snip at him. I felt more jittery with him walking with me, with him following me home. I hadn't realized until then I hadn't had one of my friends over to my house since Cassie. (Well, since before she died). Was Elijah really my friend though? At this point he felt more like a stranger. Suddenly I felt an arm wrapping around me, pulling me away from my thoughts. I (did) almost jumped in fright. My first reaction after that was the warmth dragging me in, causing me to move closer to the source. "What are you doing?" I ask in confusion, conflict dancing around both my head and my eyes. It felt so intimate, though maybe because intimacy never was something I had ever been exposed to.( Except with him). "You said you were cold and, like penguins, I figured we could huddle together for warmth." He answered nonchalantly, causing me to bark out a laugh. "Why do you know that?" I question. "Why don't you?" He retorts, the conversation dropping.

He was always this warm.( I remember when we shared a bed). The light hearted atmosphere between the two of us shifted. It started with, "You haven't come in to the library to visit me. I'll give you my phone number to call if you ever want to make plans." I replied with, "I'll write it down when I get home. But you have no room to talk, you haven't come in and eaten at the diner and I've been busy to school. It then got to the question I most dreaded, "Speaking of school, how is it treating you Lia?" I paused as we walked, feeling the urge to crumble right there on the gray sidewalk. "Good." I lie, hoping that would be the end of it. "You know I said you could talk to me about anything. You aren't a very good liar and when you got the books back your arms looked as though they were being dragged down by the weight. Have you eaten?" He pulled away from me, leaving me in a shock of cold. (I can still feel his heat radiating off of him).

I say yes in reply, but maybe a little too quickly. "When's the last time you've eaten a meal?" He asked in a calculated tone, a calm one but you could hear the bite behind it. I don't lie this time. (He makes me not want to lie). It's strange, in a way I can't and won't even attempt to explain. Maybe it's because he's someone who saw what anorexia did to me and still wants to be there to help me through the struggle. "A day and a half ago." I answer lowly, I don't tell him that the meal consisted of three potato chips, a quarter of a cup of apple juice, and half a sandwich that only had lettuce and tomato on it. "Why?" He looked more confused than anything. I stay silent and take his free hand, tugging on it as I start walking. He doesn't fight me. He doesn't pressure me to talk.

We get to my house, I look at the porch swing. I take a seat and he follows. "I haven't felt hungry." It wasn't a lie, there were points my stomach didn't growl out for food. There were points I didn't feel like I was slowly dying from starvation. (I miss when I could go without eating). There were times I could blatantly ignore the fact that I felt dizzy from not eating. "You can't go back to that way Lia." He said, almost angrily. I was stunned by the sound of his voice. "You can't tell me what to do! Don't you think I know I can't?" I hiss at him as I pull my knees to my chest. I won't go back to the treatment center for a fourth time, I can't. (I'd rather die).

"I don't want to see you sick." He said, his tone going back to the gentleness I had been accustomed to. "I don't either." I whispered, feeling tears sting my eyes. I feel a thud on the swing, he set down the books. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I felt warm again. I didn't fight it. "So what happened to cause this?" He asked, his words forming carefully. I knew what he was referring to, as did he, I didn't need to hear him say the words 'what caused you to start going back to your anorexic tendencies'. I had heard it enough from the few times I had been caught skipping meals and was forced to go see the therapist to 'fix' me. (There was no fixing someone who is as broken as me). "There are some people I went to high school with, people who were friends with Cassie. I don't know what spurred the malicious attacks, most people forgot about her. I have a few in class and we were discussing what we wanted to do in class. I went on to say that I want to help those who had eating disorders. I got attacked for that. They were so mean to me, saying that it's the pot calling the kettle black because I was a brainless bitch who did the same thing. What makes me think that anyone would listen to me, the hypocrite?" I swallow and turn my face so the tears aren't shown. (The tears are falling on his hands).

"I don't understand. And it will progressively get worst. I found a note today, one that said 'Lia' on the front of it. It was quick and concise. 'You should have killed yourself with her'. I was so sure once I entered college I wouldn't hear these things anymore. I was wrong." I whispered. (They were right). He didn't say anything as I stared down at the porch, tears trickling down my cheeks. I had perfected the art of crying, my chest no longer heaving and my breaths no longer short with gasping sounds. I hid it so well. "I'm sorry." He started out. One could hear a miniscule sound of guilt in his voice from when he was angry at me. "I didn't realize things had gotten that bad." (No one had, not even my dad who works there).

"They're wrong though. And they shouldn't judge you for something. In my opinion you are brave for facing your problems head on, versus doing what Cassie did. Not that I'm speaking ill of the dead, I'm just giving an example. If you killed yourself you wouldn't have the opportunity to help others who are in a similar situation to what you've gone through. You just need to finish getting through the rough patches to get to where you're going." He said. And while it wasn't the most intricate thing I've heard, I understood the meaning behind it and a sense of warmth ran through me. He moved his hands, untangling his lanky arms from around me and wiping the tears that had fallen from my eyes before he pulled me into his embrace again. Neither of us said anything. (I didn't say how strange it felt).

It was nice to be able to sit somewhere with someone without speaking. I forgot how comforting silence with someone else could feel. Just to know somebody was there was good in itself. Not ten minutes later Jennifer poked her head out the door, having gotten home early from work. "Lia, does your friend want to stay for dinner?" She asked and I quickly pushed his arms away, not wanting her to get any ideas. (What would be the harm if she did though?) I look at him questioningly. "It's whatever you want." I say in a soft tone so only he can hear. He smiled and nodded his head. "Please." He replied. He stayed the whole night and for one meal, I didn't count how many calories I was eating.

 _ **EMMA POV**_

"When's dinner?" I ask as I twirl around in a spinny wooden stool in the kitchen. "When it gets done." Mom says tiredly, she obviously had a stressful day at work. I don't bother her as I continue with what I'm doing. We were having macaroni and cheese and chicken tenders, something Lia liked. "Why has she looked so sad lately?" I ask and mom tiptoes around the answer. She says it's because someone dear to Lia passed away a few years ago.

"Mommy look what I made Lia in school." I pull out a paper snowman from my backpack, slightly crumpled. I beam with pride as she admires it with a smile. "Good job sweetie, why don't you go see if she's home yet." She says and I nod my head eagerly. I bound up the stairs and knock on my sister's door, not home yet. I then run down the stairs and peek out from behind the curtain to check if she was on the porch, knowing that she loved to sit on the swing. It was one of her favorite places for the two of us to spend time together.

I find her, but I also see someone else there. "Mom!" I call. "What is it?" She asks. "C'm here!" I shout. "Come here." She corrects. "Mom!" I huff. "I'm busy!" She continues. This goes on before she finally caves in and sees what I'm seeing. "Who's that?" I ask pointing to the boy who had his arms wrapped around Lia. "I don't know." She responds in a surprised tone. "Is he her boyfriend? Does he go to school with her?" I ask excitedly.

It was easy to see the worry on mommy's face. "I don't know. I don't think she should be getting herself involved with someone she's so fragile." I hear her whisper before she shuts her mouth tightly. I don't think she wanted me to hear that. "I think he can make her happy. See." I say pointing to how he was hugging her. "I don't know." She responds slowly and I look up at her with wide eyes and a puppy dog pout. "Can you ask if he wants to stay for dinner?" I ask. She gives in instantly and I grin to myself as she pokes her head out the door and asks.


End file.
